


Home.

by Is_Mayonaise_An_Instrument



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2957492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Is_Mayonaise_An_Instrument/pseuds/Is_Mayonaise_An_Instrument
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(My first fic ever so... Be patient and expect cock ups!!!)</p>
<p>' "There's a girl, Olivia Edwards, she's quite smart, a genius even. Although you ,really, wouldn't think it. She is rather important, having memorized some incredibly vital Intel. Considered impossible to memorize, mind you." '</p>
<p>' "I need you to watch after her while she recovers. Keep her mind off of what's bothering her." '</p>
<p>' "Absolutely not, no! I'm not a fucking baby sitter Mycroft! Just put her in a hospital under surveillance of something, or is this just another one of your 'Let's make Sherlock more responsible' schemes?" '</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Girl On The Block

**Author's Note:**

> Hi *waves enthusiastically* This is the first chapter, should I write more??? Feedback is always appreciated! Especially tips and ideas for the future, I wanna know where you want this thang' to go! :) Also I was listening to Phillip Phillip's 'Home' as I was writing this, hence the title... I had no title, so I stole one! Muahaha!!! *coughs* sorry!

He can't trust anyone else. Mycroft was sure of that. **Unfortunately!** And so an Older brother turns to a younger one for help.

"There's a girl, Olivia Edwards, she's quite smart, a genius even. Although you ,really, wouldn't think it. She is rather important, having memorized some incredibly vital Intel. Considered impossible to memorize, mind you. She's good at that, memorizing the un-memorable, a photographic memory helps. As I said she's quite smart; I say quite because she's suicidal, and any smart person can clearly see that suicide is merely a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Sherlock." At this point, Mycroft glared at his little brother.

Sherlock just gazed blankly back at the older Holmes; infuriating him further. "I need you to watch after her while she recovers. Keep her mind off of what's bothering her."

"Absolutely not, no! I'm not a fucking baby sitter Mycroft! Just put her in a hospital under surveillance of something, or is this just another one of your 'Let's make Sherlock more responsible' schemes?" Sherlock fumed at Mycroft.

"I don't scheme and like it or not, I need you to do it." Mycroft narrows his eyes  "And I don't trust my underdogs. They're all spy's. And she is very important." Mycroft narrowed his eyes slightly. Sherlock glares at him. "Believe it or not, but you don't have a choice in the matter, she's moving in upstairs." A 'Ha Ha I win' smirk stuck itself to The British Government's lips.

 _'Pompous arsed dick_ ', his younger brother thinks, but Sherlock doesn't say a word, curious as to why this suicidal girl is so important. "Fine! When does she arrive?" he sighs loudly and slumps back in his chair; not caring that he isn't wearing anything under his dressing gown, or that Mycroft is standing in the open doorway. Anyone walking past (Mrs Hudson) would have gotten an eyeful. Fortunately it was only Mycroft, sneering at the lack of decency Sherlock had, that his brother seemed to constantly need to remind him, of.

 "Tomorrow morning. I'll be escorting her here. She will be sleeping in the upstairs apartment, but she will spend her days with you. You are to look after her. Understand. And if you don't... Well I don't have to remind you do I? " With a fake, cheery, smile Mycroft left, clicking the door shut behind him. The younger Holmes grimaced and reached under his chair, grabbing the hidden lighter and cigarette. After lighting up and taking a big drag, he let the smoke rush from his lungs, angrily pouring from his lips. "Bloody fat git."

 

~The Next Day~

 

"Why am I being baby-sat by your little brother?" Olivia asks, tugging the sleeves of her jumper down as far as it will go, it doesn't go past her elbow.

 "You need to be watched, and so does he." Mycroft responds shortly. A roll of her eyes indicates to Mycroft that she really isn't in the mood for his parental Bullshit. This only eggs him on. "You are both irresponsible and despite your veritable fountains of knowledge and never-ending list of opportunity, you're both stupid enough to do stupid things. Somebody, sadly me, has to deal with you both!"

She wasn't listening, fighting her jumper's sleeves, eventually giving up on trying to stretch the jumper and starting to tap out the beat to a song she heard on the radio once.

 "And stop fidgeting." He orders, but the girl only sighs and continues her tapping. Mycroft was 'apparently' dropping her off in hell, she could at least make this his hell while she still could.

After finishing her tapping, she spoke, "How long am I staying with him?" Olivia knew of course, but she was bored. And Mycroft was hardly likely to start conversing with her of his own free will.

"Until you stop throwing yourself, literally onto the knife... My dear." Mycroft glanced at her, expecting one of her glares. Instead the auburn hair of the girl had fallen to shelter her face and hands (it was rather long) as she had bent forwards; hiding. _'She's ashamed'_ , he observed.

After that Olivia didn't make another attempt at conversation and neither did the British government. The drive was in complete silence, the wordless trip was only cut short by the chauffeur's announcement of "We're here." And then there was the rustling of fabrics as both passengers exited the vehicle.

There was an older woman standing in the doorway of the building she was to be living in from now on. Well it didn't look too bad and the grey haired woman was smiling at Olivia.

"Hello lovely, I'm Mrs. Hudson, you must be Olivia, Mycroft told me all about you, come in come in! Aw you're ever so pretty, it'll be nice to have some feminine company, the boys can be a tad tiring at times!" Mrs Hudson offered a tired, but friendly, even mothering, smile and it disarmed the nervous young girl at once. "You'll be in the upstairs flat, I'll show you." She finished off, gently taking the younger woman's hand and leading her up the creaky stairs.

"I know it's dreary up here, but you're welcome to paint." The landlady watched as the slight young woman made her way around the room, it had been fitted with the basics (Mycroft had arranged that) but that wasn't what Olivia was focused on; she had made her way to the open window to the front of the flat and was happily breathing in the London smells, Cars, buses and the smell of the cafe below. All of it entranced her and Mrs Hudson would be lying if the bright sunlight, shining on the girl and the gentle breeze making the delicate white curtains flutter around her, didn't make her look like some kind of beautiful, ethereal being.

It was likely that Olivia would have stayed there all day and Mrs Hudson, probably would have done the same, hypnotized by her. Were it not for the loud squabbling, heard coming from the flat just below.

"Oh dear." The grey haired woman grimaced, the tea towel hooked onto her belt, being mercilessly wrung between her hands. "I better go see what those two brothers are up to you get settled in love, I've stocked the kitchen, so if you want a cup of tea, you just have to boil the kettle and get on of the tea bags from the cupboard, alright?" With that she hurried off out the door and down the stairs.

The remaining person smiled. It wasn't so bad here, _'I thought it would be worse really'_ , Olivia found herself pondering. The thought of a nice warm cup of tea was appealing though and so she turned her back on the sunlight and walked through the archway into the kitchen. It was just as she was reaching to turn the kettle on that her dreams of the nice warm cup of tea were crushed. And the nightmare of facing reality was shoved, gracelessly in her face.

"Olivia, come downstairs." Mycroft's voice, slithered up the stairs and stole away into her flat, curling like a rope around her neck and dragging her downstairs.

"Sherlock, this is Olivia Edwards, Olivia this is-"

"Sherlock Holmes. No need for niceties Mycroft we all know why I'm here, he knows who I am and I know who he is, can I go now?" Sherlock smirks, and looks the girl up and down.

_Chewed lips and skin around fingers indicating anxiety, rough. Eyes scanning the room finding all the possible entries exits and hiding places. Likes to know what's going to happen, where she is. Dark circles under eyes from lack of sleep, probably insomnia. Wearing jeans, Converse and a graphic (short sleeved) jumper, wishes it was longer to cover up unwanted and embarrassing scars. Looks very American but accent says Oxford. Tapping of her foot, she's impatient was probably about to do something before she was called down, make a meal-no- drink. Tea!_

"Humph!" The younger Holmes, huffs and then turns towards his brother. "How long will she be here?" Olivia rolls her eyes again, landing on a skull. _'There is a real skull on the mantelpiece... Interesting'_...she thought.

"Until I don't want to kill myself, because it seems to terribly inconvenience everybody else!" She shrugs and glares at Mycroft, who only smiles politely in return.

"Well I'd love to stay and chat, but you both seem very enthusiastic about getting to know each other, so I'll take my leave of you." And with that the British Government sashayed out of the room, leaving behind two very pissed off people. Nothing he hadn't done before.

"Judging by the stitches in your right wrist and pumped stomach that will be a while." He knew. She knew he knew, about the cutting and the bleach she'd chugged. _'O_ h _joy!_ ' She thought absentmindedly. On the outside though, the auburn haired girl shrugged and lightly walked over to the mantel, eager to take a look at the skull she had observed earlier. She leaned in close to it and ran a gentle fingertip over the immaculate smooth surface of the skull.

"It's male. Do you ever talk to him?" The young woman inquired, now picking up the skull delicately.

"I beg your pardon?" Sherlock turned around to see the girl running a finger down the jawbone of his skull held in her small hands. Worry instantly flooded his nerves and he rushed over to her.

"He just seems like he's an awfully good conversationalist." Olivia shrugs, not noticing the Holmes looming over her shoulder. All too soon the skull is gone, plucked from her hands and a relieved (though you'd never know he was relieved) Sherlock is placing it back on the mantel. "He is." Is the reply she gets as she gets the non-verbal message that 'no touchy touchy, Sherlock's things' is the way she needs to approach this. Of course she wasn't going to approach it that way, especially after her attention was grabbed by the plethora of books Holmes 'the younger' seemed to own.

Olivia smiles to herself and makes her way over to the pile of books, residing on the table by the window. "Tell me about yourself Mister Holmes." She remarks randomly as she's flicking through the pages of the first book she came across... It was rather gruesome, being about the murder of a husband and wife and two of their four children.

"What's there to say, I'm sure that Mycroft told you everything about me." Sherlock shrugs as he settles himself on the sofa, staring at her.

She smiles and closes the book, leaning her elbow on it and settling her pointed chin in her palm, quite comfortably. Staring straight back at him. "Honestly he's told me very little, only that you're his younger brother and you dabble in the solving of crimes... The newspapers tell me everything else..." Olivia looks away then, back at the cover of the book, grimacing "The world's only consulting detective," she returned her stormy gaze to his, Mediterranean ocean-blue stare. Said eyes searched her face, searching for the lie.

He found none.

"Why don't you tell me about _**yourself**_ , Miss Edwards?" He shoots at her and she leans back, chuckling lightly. Sherlock notes that it's not an unpleasant sound and that, he regrettably wasn't finding much he didn't like about her.

"Why? You've already deduced me Mr Holmes. And trust me I know there is nothing interesting there..." He sighs.

"What?" Olivia frowns.

"Clearly there is something there or Mycroft wouldn't have brought you to me... For some reason I can't quite put my finger on it though, and that is incredibly frustrating!" That's when she chuckled again.

"Apparently I have a whole computer file in my head, which I do, so there's no apparently about it, but that is the only important and interesting thing about me..." Rising from her chair the young woman stretched and then went to peer out of the window. Completely ignoring the other man in the room.

"You don't seem surprised, or offended that they only want you for that."

Olivia shrugs, still looking out the window, the dark curtain obscuring her head and face. "Nothing surprises me anymore. I've seen everything. Nobody would want me for anything else." Sherlock almost doesn't hear it. And then he wonders what she's been through... He'd just have to find out and annoyingly his brother had given him all the time to do so.

"Tea dearies, mind you I'll only do it this once, since Olivia's just got here and all!" Mrs Hudson's cheery voice pierced the silence and Olivia popped her head quickly out from behind the curtain, her auburn hair a mess of dust and tangles, from being dragged through the drapes. Her eyes instantly alighting on the tray of tea and digestive biscuits the older woman held in her arms; Olivia ran over to her relieving her of weight of the tray and then walked over to the coffee table, covered in paper and bits and bobs. And Sherlock's feet.

She looked down at the Detective, raising one disapproving eyebrow and he groaned, swiping his legs off of the coffee table, knocking off it's coverings onto the floor in the process.

Olivia sighed and placed the tray down, gesturing for Mrs Hudson to join her and Sherlock on the sofa. She did, sitting in between Olivia and Sherlock. They all drank their tea and ate their biscuits happily, Mrs Hudson making gentle conversation with her new female friend and Sherlock just drinking his tea in companionable silence.

It wasn't too bad.


	2. Puzzles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is okay, I know it's been a veeeeeerrrryyyy long time since I've actually posted anything and I am so sorry, the life of a student and performer is a busy one, but I promise to try and be more regular with updating this and writing new chapters! Anyways... I hope, hope, hope that this is okay? If it isn't let me know, also the same for if it is! I love feedback and I love you guys!

"Have you seen my scarf?" A tall curly haired Consulting Detective poked his head round Olivia's door, scaring the shit out of her.

A loud smashing sound. "Fuck!"

"No need for expletives, I just wanted to know where my scarf was." She growled as the taller of the two strolled into her flat, picking up her Rubik's cube and fiddling with it before throwing himself onto her couch sideways, his nonchalance pissing her off to no end.

"Do you want to maybe not do that please?" Now on her knees, angrily picking at the pieces of broken tea cup from the wooden laminated floor, Olivia didn't look at him, her long auburn hair falling to hide her face from him.

"Do what?" Sherlock knew exactly what she meant, but was enjoying riling her up... _'This is almost as much fun as insulting Anderson'_. He found himself chuckling as he solved the cube in his hands, fingers moving deftly. He'd never thank Mycroft, but this babysitting thing was his new favorite game.

Still without looking at him, broken cup pieces in her small hands, Olivia arose and stormed off into the small kitchen; off in search of a bin and a tea towel. She found both, tossing the pieces into the bin and snagging the green towel off its hook by the sink, before storming back out to where the spillage happened. Sherlock just smirked and watched as she got back down on her knees, towel down to soak up the spilt tea.

"I haven't seen your scarf. Now bugger off." The words sounded harsher than she intended, but she let it go in favour of drying up the liquid that had managed to get underneath the sofa.

Sherlock's smile only grew in size, almost creepy looking as he stared at the top of her red hair. He knew she hadn't seen his scarf. It was on the back of his bedroom door, the only reason he was up here was to find something to entertain himself with and also he sort of had to, though he was loathe to admit his brother had any control over him. His new, 'in-flight' entertainment (courtesy of Mycroft) had been here a week, a whole week of him doing things like this to her, testing boundaries and annoying her just because he could. He'd found surprising her to be particularly effective, especially since she wasn't allowed to lock her door and he could just waltz in anytime he wanted. John wasn't as pleased with his actions, as was to be expected, but John really couldn't stop him unless he was at the flats 100% of the time. He definitely was not.

"I know you heard me, do you want me to call umbrella man?" He did not, though he knew that neither did she. Olivia called his brother umbrella man, it was one of her favourite names for him, her having created an entire list for Sherlock at some point during the week when she didn't hate him too much. She had said several names for him sparking up the question of how many she actually had, and so the list came to be. But enough about that, the thing about Olivia that he really could respect was her intense distaste of his older brother. Though his brother hid his life well from him, from the moment the two of them had been in the room together when they first met, he could practically feel the tension in the air, it sparked a curiosity in him he hadn't been able to yet quell, owing to the distinct lack of his older brother's presence. Which, the younger Holmes had no problem admitting, surprised him a little, considering the heavily stressed 'take care of this girl, she's important' message he had gotten, from said older brother.

"Curioser and curiouser..." He almost held back the sharp short laugh he let out as she turned her stark gaze upon him, a glare that 'Umbrella man' would be quite proud of. "Did my brother dearest teach you to glare like that? Because though you believe you look threatening... And don't get me wrong, to an average person. You would look threatening. But you really look like a spoilt brat whose just been denied her favourite toy!"

It only took a blink and then a tea stained, and soaked, tea towel encased his face. _'Log: boundary found; mention of childhood-rough school life? Likes to know she is threatening, can't tell if I really mean what I say. I don't'_. He slowly peels off the towel between one finger and thumb, shooting her a glare back.

"Why can't you just leave me alone for five minutes?" She sounded exasperated, tired, and for a second his facial expression softened. But only a second and then he was back to pulling her leg. Sherlock was tall, really kind of very tall when it came to Olivia, who just scraped the 5ft 1 inches mark, he was even taller when she was kneeling on the floor. So when he stood suddenly it made her shift back onto her heels, in order to still meet his gaze, her neck bent back to look up at him.

"I have left you alone for approximately, hmm, lets round it to 5 hours, and I'm not even supposed to give you that. Why could you possibly need more time, when you're physically not doing anything at all?"

"Maybe I like being alone?"

"Ah, but you're not allowed to be alone, orders from on high,  _I'm sorry_." He neither sounded nor looked sorry. "And as you're down there..." He gestures to her, kneeling not too far away from him with the towel still in hand. "Well, you really cannot disobey." Holmes sneers and dropped the towel before turning on his heel and striding off out of her door, not even bothering to close it.

A deep sigh left Olivia's lips as she let her shoulders sag and put her head down on the floor, just lying there on her knees and forehead. A few minutes went by before she moved again, lazily reaching an arm over to grab the towel Sherlock dropped, only to hear something 'clunk' onto the floor when she lifted it. Towel discarded she picked up the object. A key? _'Why a key? What are you doing, you insane man?'_ ran through her head as she stood and wandered to her open door, leaning against the frame, she looked out down the stairs; eyes falling on Sherlock's door. _'Should I go and confront him?'_ She debated the pros and cons of doing so, finding there to be more cons, she'd had enough of him already and all she really wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cry. _'Arsehole thinks its funny to torment me... And maybe it is, but I'm so tired and dealing with his bullshit is really not on my agenda. For any day.'_

One closed door, another cup of tea and a while of crying later; Olivia found herself curled up in her blankets and duvet, twirling the key around her fingers, over and over again. A glazed almost hazy look, on her eyes. "What are you for?" She questioned the key after a while, knowing full well it wouldn't answer her.

That's when she heard the sirens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As I said I will try and be more regular with updates... I do have some sort of plan as to where this is going, but I'd love to hear what you guys want to happen! You're ideas are the best! So, yeah, thank you and I hope you enjoyed xx


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